The Definitive Indefinite Article: We temporarily  interrupt this long hiatus to belatedly fulfill our commitment to our annual Bloomsday Twiterature installment.

The Patient Reader: I was wondering if you would ever come back to get around to that.

TDIA: Well it has been very busy over at the Sister ship of The Brothers’ Lot and then , well I got sidetracked watching Rory McIlroy winning the US golf Open and then I was on the radio on Bloomsday and…

The Patient Reader: I heard you.  I fully understand and am delighted to see you back,  I was up until all hours watching the golf myself.

TDIA: So here goes.  The story so far:

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came across from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressing gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:–_Introibo ad altare Dei_.  Ha

The Patient Reader: Right.  I’m with you.

TDIA: And this is 2011’s offering:

lted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit! Solemnly he came forward

The Patient Reader: Ah, that’s lovely.  It’s really starting to pick up steam.  I can’t wait for next year.

TDIA: But wait!  This year it is actually on Twitter too. 

The Patient Reader: You don’t say!

TDIA: I do! @KevinHolohan is pushing it out any minute now.

The Patient Reader: Ah that’s marvellous!.  In a strangely self-referential kind of way.

TDIA: The times we live in.

The Patient Reader: Indeed.  Oops here’s me boss!  Back to my spreadsheet. [Alt+Tab.  Exit.]

TDIA: Goodluck now.

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